Lothíriel's Tale
by charlibigg
Summary: A princess of Dol Amroth, aged 19, sets out to attend the coronation of King Elessar. Whilst trying to avoid the advances of Gondorian lords, can she find true love in the form of a horse lord? Author's note: this is my first lotr fanfic and I want it to be as true to the books as I can make it, any reviews would be much appreciated!
1. Chapter 1: Beginnings

**AN:** _I have realised that in my excitement to post this story I had completely forgotten to write an author's note and a disclaimer! So here goes:_

_DISCLAIMER: I do not own, and never will own, anything involving this story. It is written purely for my own, and hopefully other's, amusement. All credit goes to the wonderful Tolkein family._

_Enjoy!_

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Lothíriel stood at the top of Tirith Aear, the Seaward-Tower that stood within the white city walls of Dol Amroth, on the headland that overlooked the sea. Her gaze was fixed on the never-ending expanse of water. Indeed she had been doing so for many hours already that day, and again for the days, and weeks, before. She was anxiously awaiting news of her family; her father, Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth, and her elder brothers: Elphir, Erchirion and Amrothos.

Ever since the messenger from Gondor had come riding in haste and had shared whispered, urgent words to the prince of oncoming war and impending doom from the East, the people of Dol Amroth had been waiting with baited breath to hear news of loved ones and the fate of Middle Earth. Lothíriel, in particular, felt the keen loss of her brothers and father, the only surviving family left to her since her mother's tragic death when she had been very small. Now the only memory that she could conjure of her mother was of a serene, tall and grey-eyed woman, with a graceful laugh and a scent of violets.

Lothíriel took after her mother in appearance; she too was tall for a woman, she had a pale, almost elven, complexion, with piercing grey eyes and long dark hair, that gently waved and clung to her figure as she moved. She was slim, but that belied the hidden strength that her body harboured; she was as adept at sword fighting as she was with playing the harp. Even by the standards of Dol Amroth she was considered a beauty; she seemed to have inherited all the elven blood that her ancestry could provide. From her father she had gained his gift for diplomacy and wit, and also a slight mischievousness, a trait that never failed to dismay her tutors when they found themselves to be the victim in yet another scheme. These schemes had often included the youngest of her three brothers, Amrothos, who was closest to her both in age and temperament. It was this brother that she missed the most.

On this day, the 4th of April in the year 3019 of the Third Age, Lothíriel sensed a change in the skies. The dark cloud that had covered Gondor but 2 weeks ago had all but vanished, and the sound of birdsong from the migratory birds of the south had returned. She felt the warm rays of the sun filter through the windows of her father's study at the top of the tower and knew instinctively that peace had been restored.

Below her the familiar clatter of hooves on the cobbled streets of Dol Amroth could suddenly be heard. Lothíriel gathered up her skirts and immediately started to run down the long flights of stairs that spiralled around the walls of the tower. This was the third time that she had undertaken this journey in recent months. In her family's absence she had been entrusted with the care of the city, and she had dealt with the small disputes that had occurred in that time both fairly and in person.

Reaching the bottom of the tower, the young woman, only 19 years of age, took a moment to compose herself and gather her wits; it would not do for a princess to look overly flustered, before opening the door to receive the approaching messenger.

"My Lady!" hailed the Gondorian soldier. He looked tired from his journey, his horse even more so as they had ridden at break-neck speed, but his eyes were full of excitement.

"What news from Minas Tirith?" she enquired urgently.

"Denethor, Steward, is dead. But despair not! As Elessar, descendent of Elendil, Heir of Isildur and to the throne of Gondor has been found! Moreover the One Ring of power has been discovered and cast into the fires of Mount Doom by small folk from the Shire and Sauron is overthrown!"

Lothíriel was momentarily saddened by the news of the passing of her uncle, he had been a good man in earlier years, but since the death of his wife his mood had been increasingly fell and he spoke only of doom and destruction. She had also resented his continued favouritism of his eldest Boromir over Faramir. Her cousin Faramir had always been her favourite due to his kind nature and fair manners. To her Boromir had seemed at times to be arrogant, yet she had mourned the loss of her cousin with great sorrow when news of his demise had reached the city of Dol Amroth.

"These are glad tidings indeed! Now my men will see to it that your horse is cared for and you may find rest in our guest houses." The soldier bowed deeply to show his gratitude and followed one of the servants, that had been standing nearby, towards the palace.

"Elimavi!" Lothíriel cried, for she knew that her handmaiden would be near. The servant came out from an arch on the other side of the courtyard. "Please tell the men that we are to begin the journey to Minas Tirith."

"Will we be going by ship my lady?"

"No Eli, the fastest ships have been taken by my father and brothers, we will take the road."

"But is that safe? I heard the roads had been overrun!"

"We have nothing to fear from those evil creatures now my friend, the forces of Sauron are greatly depleted and are scattered across Middle Earth. We can easily defend ourselves against such foes."

"Your father…"

"My father would expect me to be at the Coronation of King Elessar. And that is something I intend to do. We cannot wait for the men to return to escort us, nor can we take the fishing boats. So by road it is!"

Elimavi knew better than to argue with the princess, the only person that could command her once her mind was set on something was her father. It was a trait her mother had shared.

"Very well my lady, I will see to it that preparations are made." And with that she curtsied and left.

Lothíriel smiled to herself; this was the first journey that she had made without the supervision of either her father or her brothers and she loved to ride. Most ladies of Dol Amroth preferred the more sedate method of travel of a palanquin or a covered barge, both modes would protect them from the eyes of the outside world. The princess, however, took pleasure in seeing her people and the majestic landscapes that could be found around Dol Amroth.

She knew that preparations for such a journey would take a good three days, so she decided to go and see her horse. Arauka, whose name was Sindarin for swift, was practically chomping at the bit when she caught a glimpse of her mistress.

"Hello there Arauka my love," Lothíriel murmured soothingly. "Have you missed me? Here, have a little treat." She said procuring an old carrot that she had picked up from the kitchen. The mare munched happily on the food as Lothíriel began methodically grooming and tacking up her horse.

Soon she was ready to ride and mounted her steed gracefully, opting for the side saddle as she was not wearing her riding dress. Voicing a soft command to Arauka, the pair began to weave their way from the royal stables to the main gates of the city. As she made her way through the streets she greeted the city folk, answering their questions graciously when they asked her what tidings came from Minas Tirith, until she finally made it to the walls. From their outposts the few remaining guards hailed her as she passed out of the city and into the open countryside.

Below her body Lothíriel could feel the muscles bunching in Arauka as she sensed the opportunity was near to finally run. It took but a slight nudge with her heel and suddenly she was flying!

The experience of riding a horse such as Arauka at full gallop was something that is indescribable for those that are not accustomed to riding. It never ceased to amaze Lothíriel how man could tame such powerful beasts for their own uses.

The sun beat down upon the gravel road they were travelling on and a sea wind whipped her hair in a stream behind her. She bore south, pulling gently on the reins, so that Arauka turned off the road and towards the grass hill that sloped down towards the beach. Then they raced along the edge of the shore, both girl and horse laughing at the sea spray that hit their eyes.

Eventually they came to a stop and Lothíriel, still laughing, jumped down onto the sand. Arauka turned her head to nuzzle her mistress while Lothíriel smiled.

"You're going to have no troubles on this journey now are you?"

Arauka whinnied in agreement.

"I thought not! Now come, I will find you a nice grassy patch for you to nibble on and then I can relax in the sun."

Lothíriel sprawled, in a very un-princess-like fashion on the grass banks just beyond the sand and hummed an old tune, a lullaby her mother had sung, to herself. The messenger had not mentioned the fate of her father and brothers, but somehow she knew that they were alright. She like to think that 'no news is good news' anyway in times like this, but that had been hard for her when the skies had been so black and foreboding. Now Spring was most definitely in the air she was able to think of other things, in particular of her future.

Normally a princess of her age, whilst still in her opinion quite young, would have been married off to a Lord of Gondor, or some nobility from another kingdom. However, with more important things on the minds of her father and her uncle, she was yet to be betrothed, but she was sure that her position would not be forgotten for much longer. There had been that occasion where Denethor had threatened, after a particularly daring trick she had played at his house, to marry her off to one of the corsair lords. She had been terrified, especially as she was only 15 at the time, but her father had been so furious at the suggestion that her uncle had insisted it was merely made in jest. Lothíriel had not been so sure.

Regardless, the fact remained that Lothíriel was now almost in her twentieth year and she had no idea who she wished to spend the rest of her life with. All the Gondorian lords that she had met at feasts had seemed too uptight and bound by decorum for her tastes, though she felt, with a slight sense of glum acceptance that this would probably be the most likely outcome.

Perhaps she would live in Minas Tirith? The white city was so like Dol Amroth in many ways, but in others it was far from the sea and so crowded. Many parts of it were falling to ruin these days as well. As a princess she would be confined to the cloying upper levels, not allowed to move as she pleased amongst the people.

The more Lothíriel thought on this matter, the more she was resolved to refuse the hand of any Gondorian lord that her father might choose for her. This was a bold decision, one that she knew could cause her much anguish, but she knew in her heart it was the right one.

With her mind set, she called over to Arauka and headed back to the city. In just three more days they would be setting off, and she needed to prepare.

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**AN:** _ps brownie points go to those that review :)_


	2. Chapter 2: Journey

**AN:** _Annnnd we have our first reviewer! Big shout out goes to Siny, and cookies. Lots and lots of virtual cookies. Thank you!_

_DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, nada, __rien, asgjë, intet... you get the idea._

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It was on the morning of the 7th of April, when the suns rays were just beginning to creep in from the East, that a small company of soldiers bearing the standard of the White Swan, a few servants and a princess left behind the gates of Dol Amroth. Their journey would be a long one, taking three weeks in total, and it would be split into several legs.

The first being 65 miles north along the sandy beaches to Edhellond, which would take them 2 and a half days, and during this time they would have no access to fresh water. One reason for the relatively sedate progress was the need to carry provisions to last the travellers on the stretches between civilisations. This of course required the use of carts, which made for notoriously slow journeys.

Lothíriel, sat atop Arauka, did not mind this particularly. Indeed she relished in the opportunity to really study the land of her ancestors. It had been all too rare an occurrence for her to have such an opportunity; normally her father would ensure that she was kept below decks on voyages out of Dol Amroth. This was to serve two purposes: firstly, many of the sailors were superstitious about women being aboard ships, and secondly to keep her out of harms way and the inevitable trouble that she would cause. A particularly memorable incident being when she swapped the ale for vinegar; on that occasion she truly had to lock herself into her cabin to avoid the wrath of the sailors.

The travellers reached Edhellond without much incident at noon on the third day and rested there the night within the walls of the old deserted city. Lothíriel thought it a pity that such a beautiful city was to be left for ruin, especially as it had once harboured Sindar, Nandor and Gondorians. It had also been the place from which the elves had sailed to the West until 1981 of the Third Age, when Amroth was lost at sea after he attempted to return to his love Nimrodel. The princess appreciated this history and the romantic tale of true love; she hoped that the man that won her hand would also be worthy of such stories.

The next morning they set off again with the dawn, this time heading northeast along the river Ringló in an attempt to avoid the mountains of Dor-en-Ernil which stretched North of Dol Amroth and parallel to the great river. This stretch was longer, taking 4 days to reach the bridge at Ethring.

Here they were able to stop for supplies in the town, which was mainly deserted due to the large number of men who had followed the lord's son Dervorin to Minas Tirith. Lothíriel had met Dervorin on a couple of occasions; he had seemed quietly confident, and she was sure he would be a good future leader, yet he was very unfortunate in his appearance, so he preferred to spend more time in the practise fields than at her father's feasts.

Although Lothíriel would have loved to spend more time in this town, which appeared to have a rather promising market, she knew that they had to leave early the next morning. The next stretch, which would take them 225 miles all the way to Pelargir, was the longest one.

There was a great debate amongst the soldiers as to whether it was wise to visit Pelargir, as there had been rumours that the Corsairs of Umbar had been planning to besiege the great city. Lothíriel, however, was adamant that they must stop there.

"We simply cannot carry enough provisions to reach Minas Tirith without another stop and Pelargir is the only option."

"But my lady, we are but a small band, we cannot hope to fight off the corsairs if the city is under siege!" cried one of the younger captains.

"Fear not! It is unlikely that our forces could win such a battle against the dark lord without also overcoming the corsairs! I believe the city will be free and we will be able to pick up the final provisions we need. If not, we will have to use stealth; my family know of the secret entrances."

And with that the discussion was ended, though a sense of foreboding greatened as the party neared the port city on the eighth day. A scout was sent ahead to ensure that the way was safe. However their fears were unfounded as, once Lothíriel had reached the city hall at the centre of the city, she was told that the corsairs had been overrun by none other than Elessar himself, along with a dwarf and an elf and, this being the most shocking news of all, the army of the dead.

"The Oathbreakers have returned!" she exclaimed questioningly.

"Yes my lady, it was a most fearful sight to behold indeed! Though we were most fortunate that they did return, for the corsairs had already laid waste to most of the outskirts of our fair city, as I'm sure you observed on your journey in." replied the warden, who had been placed in charge of the city in the stead of the Gondorian lord that had taken men of the city to Minas Tirith to do battle.

"A most unfortunate occurrence, Pelargir has always been one of the most fair of all Gondorian cities." Lothíriel offered, truly meaning what she said, as Pelargir was indeed a very fine city.

"Thank you my lady, now if I may direct you to our guest's accommodation…"

Again Lothíriel was left regretful at the lack of time to explore. Pelargir was essentially a large port, where the navy of Gondor was based, that was built on the banks of both the Sîr-Sírith and the larger Sîr-Anduin that flowed directly from the plains below Minas Tirith. The walls encircled two sections built on separate banks, with a manmade triangular island at the joining of the two rivers. This island was then split into three further triangles, with waterways between each, with the main tower, which served as a lighthouse, Barad Aerhir in the centre.

At this moment in time Lothíriel was on one of these triangular islands staying in one of the houses of nobility, with a family who seemed only too honoured to receive her. Lothíriel found this almost amusing, as she was not very much more important than any nobility to be found here, but she accepted their hospitality with grace.

Finally, after collecting the final provisions that would be needed for the last leg of their journey, Lothíriel and her company set off to travel north along the South Road to reach Minas Tirith. As they journeyed along the Sîr-Anduin the princess was dismayed to see the evidence of recent destruction along its banks. Small fishing villages were all but burnt to the ground, with smoke still rising, and refugees were also using the road to reach either Minas Tirith or Pelargir in the hope of finding family or a new livelihood to replace their old ones.

On many occasions Lothíriel dismounted from Arauka to walk amongst the people, asking the women for their stories, holding babes for tired mothers and expressing sympathy for the losses of the Gondorians. It all seemed so desperately sad, but Lothíriel was gladdened with the knowledge that now the war was over and a new king was soon to come to the throne, these people would once again be able to thrive in a stronger Gondor.

All too soon the travellers reached Pelennor Fields, which appeared to have been the sight of a great battle, with smoke funeral biers still rising in locations dotted all over the fields and the bodies of fallen Mûmakil being slowly moved towards the river, where they would be transported to tanneries. In the distance Minas Tirith, the great and majestic white city, was visible, rising almost seamlessly with the mountains behind.

Lothíriel and the others in her company breathed a sigh of relief as the three-week journey had come to an end. She could see horses bearing the white swan of her father emerging from the city and headed in their direction, and she prepared herself to be reunited with her family once more.

"Lothíriel!" Cried one of the riders, who she instantly recognised as her brother Amrothos. "You have arrived at last!"

Lothíriel smiled and knew that the next few days would be ones of joy and celebration, and she no longer felt weary from her journey.

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**AN:** _Pretty please could I have another review? With a cherry on top?_


	3. Chapter 3: Minas Tirith

**AN:** _And another big thank you to Naomi Hirshfeld, my second reviewer! I was so excited to see your review I promptly stopped doing the revision that I probably should still be doing and wrote this chapter :D I haven't really checked it through as it's quite late now, but I hope it's alright..._

_DISCLAIMER: Nothing is mine, though I sometimes wish it was so I wouldn't have to get a degree and a proper job..._

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Her reunification with her family had been emotional for Lothíriel, especially after hearing the stories of the battles that they had faced, worse than even her imaginings in Dol Amroth could possibly have created.

Elphir was speaking now of the march to the Black Gate of Mordor. "Our numbers were greatly diminished, indeed we hardly thought it possible that anyone would return alive from such an endeavour. All the men were calling it a suicide mission. Easterlings and Orcs ambushed us on our journey; this pushed our numbers back to less than 6000, taking into account those that did not have the courage to go on."

Lothíriel gasped to hear how pitifully small the Army of the West had been, and she had to double check to see that her family were indeed all intact and unharmed. It seemed like the Valar themselves had been protecting them. Erchirion continued with the story.

"We were greeted by an evil creature when we arrived, the Mouth of Sauron, who lead us to believe that the Ringbearer was in his captivity…"

Amrothos chipped in, "You remember me telling you about the hobbits don't you sister?"

Lothíriel smiled at her brother, "Of course brother, who could forget such an extraordinary tale?" Amrothos looked exceedingly pleased with himself, whilst Lothíriel beckoned Erchirion to continue.

"This news saddened us greatly, especially as it now seemed that our lives would be sacrificed in vain. The mood became bleaker when a great host, that outnumbered us nigh on ten to each man, surrounded our forces, so that it seemed we were trapped in the eye of a great storm!"

It was at this point that Prince Imrahil, who had been sitting off to the side of the rooms that they had been assigned, got up and headed towards his children. He put a hand on the shoulders of his two eldest sons.

"I was very proud of you that day my sons, you did great honour to our family with the courage that you showed. Indeed Lothíriel, we would surely have lost, eventually, had it not been for the courage of those hobbits; may the Valar bless them. One moment it seemed as though we were on the precipice of disaster, then the eye of Sauron moved towards Mount Doom and the Nazgûl departed, leaving some of our enemy confused, allowing us to regain some of our position. Suddenly there was a great tremor and Barad-dûr, the Black Gate and the Towers of Teeth all collapsed to ruin, allowing us to defeat our foes, even against such overwhelming numbers."

It took a moment for the tale to sink in, but Lothíriel thought she would never again hear of such an epic battle. At least she hoped that she would not. Even though she knew how to fight, her father had made sure of this due to the uncertain and dangerous times in which they lived, she knew that she would never have had the courage to walk up to the very front door of the dark lord. She was also tired of being cooped behind city walls and fearing for her life every time the corsairs attacked Dol Amroth. Perhaps now she would have more freedom.

"You are all very brave my lords, I'm sure your names will be remembered for generations to come in great ballads!" Lothíriel responded, touching her brother Amrothos's arm in a show of solidarity.

Prince Imrahil smiled warmly at his youngest child. "My Lothíriel, you have grown up so much these past few years, to my shame I have hardly noticed it! You are almost in your twentieth year are you not?"

Lothíriel curtseyed, "Yes my lord, this summer shall be my nineteenth."

Her father looked thoughtful for a moment, and then frowned, "I have been neglectful of you daughter, but fear not I shall do my best to remedy this oversight. Now my sons I must talk with you in the study, Lothíriel do what you wish. This city is beautiful, perhaps you might take a servant as a guide?"

Again Lothíriel curtseyed as her father and brothers left the room. She decided to follow her father's advice and sought out a servant to lead her around the city. Although she had been to Minas Tirith before many times as a young child, she had not been recently due to the danger, and the city had changed much, not least due to the recent devastation that the siege and battle on Pellenor Fields had caused.

The servant of course stayed far away from the first level, which Lothíriel remembered to have shops, due to the great fires the orcs had cast there. Her family had been staying in deserted noblemen's houses on the fifth level due to the high number of important guests staying in their usual accommodation on the seventh level; there was a market on the fourth level and her guide thought it would be unwise for her to go to the lower levels, as they were mainly for the poorer families and tradesmen. Lothíriel wanted to protest, but she didn't want her father to hear that she was causing trouble, especially as he seemed to be coming up with 'plans' for her. Now was definitely the right time to be staying in the Prince's good books.

That left the seventh level, where the great palace was, along with the other houses of lords; Lothíriel was interested to know who would be staying in her family's usual quarters; and the sixth level.

It was on the sixth level that Lothíriel met her cousin Faramir again. She caught sight of him in the gardens of the house of healing and immediately ran over, throwing decorum to the wind, to envelope him in an affectionate hug.

"Faramir, oh how I have missed you!" she cried.

"Baby cousin!" he replied, though seemed to frown as he looked down at her. "But my how you have grown, these last three summers have been particularly kind to you, my fair lady."

Lothíriel blushed at this, in truth she had always looked up to her dashing elder cousins who always seemed so confident. Of course being older than her, they had often led her astray on her visits to Minas Tirith, leading to Denethor thinking that she was a particularly wicked child at times. This thought reminded her of Boromir and suddenly she was very grave.

"He truly is gone isn't he?" she whispered.

A look of great sadness crossed Faramir's face as she understood her question, "Yes, Boromir fell. But he fell a hero, his death being crucial to the safe passing of the ring away from a great host of orcs."

"Then I am glad it was not all for naught, he would have wanted it that way."

"To die a hero…" Faramir's voice trailed off at this.

Immediately Lothíriel knew of his thoughts and she reached out to comfort him, "Please do not be sad cousin, I have heard of your deeds, and they are just as heroic as his. You deserve to live just as much as any of us, and you must be strong for the trials that lie ahead."

He smiled briefly at his younger cousin, "Thank you Lothíriel. It is true I did not expect to outlive my brother, nor did I expect to have any power whatsoever. Aragorn, though you know him as Elessar, has entrusted me with the stewardship of Gondor in his absence…"

Lothíriel quickly interrupted at that point, confusion written upon her face, "His absence? You mean to say not all the lords are back from battle yet?"

"No they are not. Elessar and his men, and the horselords of Rohan, including the new King Éomer, are encamped on the Field of Cormallon, where they are celebrating along with the newly returned hobbits."

"But why? Why not come back to Minas Tirith?"

"Aragorn swore he would not return until his coronation, so we shall see him in a matter of days when he is crowned on the first day of May."

"Ah…" replied Lothíriel. In truth she was disappointed. She had been hoping to see the new king, to see if the stories about him were really true. Also, she was interested to see the riders of Rohan, as she had never been to that Kingdom, nor had she attended any feasts where any horselord had been present.

Faramir sensed her disappointment and quickly added; "However the sister of the new King, Éowyn, is under this very roof."

"Well what are we waiting for then?" Lothíriel laughed, "It is discourteous of you to keep me so long when we have royalty to attend to!"

And with that an eager Lothíriel took her cousin's hand and dragged him back towards the healing rooms.

It didn't take much searching to find the lady, Faramir knew that she preferred the solitude of the reading rooms, and he smiled apologetically at Éowyn as he introduced the princess.

"My lady, may I introduce the Princess Lothíriel of Dol Amroth, my cousin." He said with a slight bow. Éowyn looked up from her book and was almost startled to see the princess smilling eagerly down at her.

"My lady." She said inclining her head.

"Please," the girl cried. "Call me Lothíriel, for I am sure we shall soon be firm friends."

Éowyn had to chuckle at Lothíriel's enthusiasm. "Well then, you must call me Éowyn. Now Faramir, you did not tell me that you had such a fair cousin."

Faramir blushed and stammered, "No more beautiful than you my lady!" Then a wave of embarrassment seemed to cripple him and he quickly took his leave.

The two women giggled at his obvious discomfort, then Éowyn turned to Lothíriel. "Now I wish to get to know you, but I feel trapped inside this building, do you think that you could get me out of here?"

A glint of mischievousness shot through Lothíriel's eyes. "But of course! Follow me."

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**AN:** _Thank you so much for taking the time to read this, but could I ask you a huge favour *puppy dog eyes* pweese review? Danke, gracias and merci! :D_


	4. Chapter 4: Coronation

**AN:**_ Yay for lovely reviewers that make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside! This time I have to thank Saren-Dipety (loved the little touch you threw in at the end there, I see you noticed my fondness for other languages, hehe!), LalaithElerrina (who really has some lovely stories, may I recommend you have a look-see), Cherrie ("MORE, HE WANTS MORE?!") and cCeret (Buenas noches de Inglaterra - apologies if that is wrong, I haven't studied Spanish in a while...). Anyways on with the story!_

_DISCLAIMER: To own or not to own that is the question... unfortunately in my case, when it comes to this story, it would be the latter._

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The next few days saw Lothíriel get to know the Shieldmaiden of Rohan far better. She had been shocked to hear of her great courage in the Battle of Pelennor Fields, how she slew the Witch-King of Angmar, and she was unsurprised to hear that the healers still wanted the Lady to rest.

Éowyn, of course, was having none of it. Ever since becoming friends with Lothíriel she had managed to avoid the unwanted attention from overly vigilant healers and wardens. Lothíriel however did not encroach too much on her new friend's time as she had observed Faramir's behaviour around Éowyn, and she knew that there was something between the pair that was more than mere companionship.

When she was not with Éowyn, Lothíriel spent time in the great library of Minas Tirith, reading up on the language of Rohan, as she wished to be able to converse with her friend in her native tongue. As a child Lothíriel had had many tutors teaching her all manner of important arts that she would need as a princess; her harp playing was second to none in Dol Amroth, which was renowned for its harpists, and she spoke Sindarin fluently. She had a theoretical grounding in the basics of the Rohan language; she knew what certain names meant; yet she had never been able to put her skills into practice.

Lothíriel did not have much spare time though, as it became increasingly clear that her father intended to pay her much more attention in the days leading up to the coronation.

"Lothíriel, come hither my daughter, let me take a look at you." He said on the second day after her arrival. "Yes, I believe the time is right… Let me speak plainly with you my child; in a few days hence all the lords of Gondor will be returning to Minas Tirith for the King's coronation. I wish for you to be presented before the court and I wish for you to make the best impression possible. To this end I have employed a great many seamstresses to make you new dresses, as I know many of your finer ones could not be brought with you on your journey."

Imrahil paused expectantly, so quickly Lothíriel answered, "Thank you father, that is most generous of you… But may I enquire as to why you believe it is important that I make such a good impression?"

"Come now daughter, we both know this will be the greatest opportunity for many a year for you to meet eligible suitors. You could not possibly hope to remain unmarried for the rest of your life?"

"No father, I just… I hoped for more time."

With that the prince's eyes softened, and he took his daughter's hand, "So did I, dear heart, but I cannot pretend that a strong match would not be welcomed. The war has taken its toll on our fair city; we need, now more than ever, a guarantee of support. Something that only a marriage between great families can provide. Will you do your duty Lothíriel?"

"Of course father, when the time comes I will play my part." Lothíriel replied, bending her head respectfully.

After that she was subjected to endless fittings, as there was little time left before the coronation. On one occasion she was joined by Éowyn and she was able to practice her newly learnt phrases from Rohan's language. Éowyn applauded her enthusiastically and helped correct her accent.

The morning of the 1st of May arrived with much hustle and bustle everywhere in the city. In the household of Prince Imrahil the men were able to lounge around in the receiving rooms, but behind the scenes the women were hurriedly trying to make last minute preparations.

In her rooms Lothíriel had several servants attending to her, though she missed the presence of her ladies maid Elmavi, who had stayed behind in Dol Amroth. These girls, who were mainly from Minas Tirith, hurried around her, fitting her into her new dress, braiding her hair, applying light make-up to highlight her pale features and applying rose blossom scent just below her jaw line. Once they had finished, Lothíriel was finally able to look at herself in the long mirror.

She was momentarily stunned; the transformation from a regular beauty to an ethereal goddess was almost shocking to behold. Yet that was how she appeared. Quickly Lothíriel thanked her helpers warmly, before she turned back to study her appearance.

Her father had asked that her dress be white, to showcase her virtue and her luscious dark hair. Also it made her look incredibly regal, like the swan of her people, with a long flowing train and patterns of silver thread running throughout. Her hair was down, but braided towards the top, with pearls beaded in a design. Truly the look was flawless, Lothíriel had never before felt so beautiful. It made her sad that her mother would not be able to witness her transformation from a girl into a woman.

At that moment Imrahil walked in to fetch her for the coronation, he had been about to speak when suddenly he faltered and stood stock still, "Why… Lothíriel, you are the very vision of your mother, she would have been so proud of you."

Lothíriel could feel the emotion in her father's voice and she immediately moved to embrace him, "Thank you father, for such a beautiful dress, and for everything… You have been the best parent any girl could hope for."

"Now we must be off, it would not do to be late!" Imrahil said rather gruffly, though Lothíriel could still see the moisture of unshed tears in his eyes.

There was a great crowd milling around the streets, but the heralds of Dol Amroth were quickly able to clear a path for the royal guests. Lothíriel's father had insisted that she ride in a palanquin, so for now she could hardly see the people through the veiled curtains. She did not mind too much though and she used the time to imagine what the new king would look like and to remember some of the Rohirric phrases that she had practised with Éowyn, for today she would meet many more of the riders of Rohan.

Éomer rode through the streets with a procession of his men. Their armour had all been newly polished, and the horses groomed until they almost shone, so he was unsurprised to hear the gasps of wonder from the people of Minas Tirith, many of whom had not been around at the time of the Battle of Pelennor fields and had now returned as refugees and to witness the coronation of their king.

The new king of Rohan was pleased to be back in the city of Minas Tirith; he had not had much time to explore when he had last been here, and he feared he would not have much time again on this occasion. There were many things that urgently had to be put in order back in Rohan, so he was due to return to Edoras with his sister only a week hence.

For now though, as the riders came to the stables on the sixth level, he was able to soak up the atmosphere of a city finally free from the oppression of dark forces. He could sense hope in the air, and as he climbed up to the seventh level, where the coronation was to be held, he could not help but be caught up in the mood.

People were already in their places, and Éomer took his position to the left and slightly to the front of the platform on which Gandalf the wizard stood ready to receive his friend.

It was then that he saw her.

Standing on the other side, and slightly further away from the platform, a dark haired girl whose beauty surpassed any mortal girl that he had laid eyes on in his life. A beauty so rare indeed, he believed that she belonged better in one of the great ballads of old, rather than mere meters from himself. Suddenly she looked up and caught his eye. Immediately he felt something shift in his very core as he gazed into those piercing grey eyes. But the glimpse was all too fleeting, as she gasped and turned away.

"She's very beautiful is she not?" Éomer turned towards the voice of his sister Éowyn, who also was looking particularly fair on this occasion.

"Sister!" he cried. "Oh how it gladdens my heart to see you well again!"

"Thank you brother, you have the good healers of Minas Tirith, and my lord Faramir, to thank for that." She replied, gesturing to the captain of Gondor that stood just behind her.

"Then my lord I am in your debt," he responded inclining his head to the other man. "But pray, sister, do tell me who that girl is."

Faramir responded first, "She is my cousin, the princess Lothíriel of Dol Amroth."

"The daughter of Prince Imrahil?" Éomer questioned.

"The same. She is but nineteen years of age, but some say she bears the wisdom of one of the Sindar, indeed she has many attributes of one of that race."

It was at this point that Éowyn spoke, "She has been a good friend to me these last few days, I should very much like if she could return with us to Edoras."

Faramir frowned, "I'm not sure her father would approve, he is very protective of his daughter, and I know he is set on her finding a suitor here in Gondor very soon."

Éomer paused to mull over this information, "Perhaps I will speak to the lady, I would very much like to meet any friend of yours dear sister."

It was at that point that horns announced the arrival of Aragorn, soon to be King Elessar of Gondor. Everyone ceased their conversations and turned to watch as the first signs of Gondor returning to its former glory unveiled themselves.

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**AN:** _I hope you are enjoying this as much as I am, sorry that it is taking so long for Éomer and Lothíriel to get together, but I'm trying to make it as realistic (oh how I wish a story about Middle Earth could_ actually_ be realistic) as possible. Please let me know what you think!_


	5. Chapter 5: Celebration

**AN:** _Hello my fair readers, I am very sorry for the delay in posting this chapter, I'm never quite sure what is going to happen in my life before it happens... To my lovely reviewers: UntilNeverDawns, LalaithElerrina, Saren-Dipety, silverswath, naomihirshf, solar1, sandy-wmd and LittleNK (who are growing in number, yay!) may I say a huge thank you, thank you, thank you! I'm so tired that I can't even try to be witty, so I will keep to the point..._

_DISCLAIMER: None of this is mine. Deal with it._

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The great hall of Minas Tirith was a riot of colour and music; a far cry from the room that saw the despair of the Steward just a few short weeks ago. Minstrels sat on a dais to the right of the throne and banners for each of the allied forces of the West hung proudly between the statues of Gondor's former kings.

It was a joyous celebration, but a formal one. The horselords of Rohan looked almost bemused as they surveyed the scene of polite courtiers making small talk and dancing sedate Sarabandes.

Lothíriel, who preferred not to dance, as she had in the past been most unfortunate with her partners, stood to the side of the hall exchanging pleasantries with various Lords and dignitaries. She smiled and was generally beguiling, but her heart was not in the task; she merely played this role to appease her father, who was standing not too far away. He was speaking to other generals, with whom he had fought, but every now and again he would glance over at his youngest child and smile approvingly when he saw her with an eligible lord.

Suddenly Lothíriel was brought out of her slight trance, when she heard a shrill female voice, Elphir's wife if she was not mistaken by the sound of it, calling for music of Dol Amroth. Inwardly Lothíriel cringed as the Lady called her over and begged of her to play.

There was no way that the princess could graciously refused, so with a sense of duty she took to the dais, accepting a harp from a servant. She looked carefully at the harp; it was well made indeed, the craftsmanship evident in the carvings and she could tell by the wood and strings that the instrument was designed to be particularly sonorous. She smiled; this would be fun.

A hush descended upon the hall as she took a breath, pausing, before she let the first strains of the melody fill the room.

_An Elven-maid there was of old,_

_A shining star by day:_

_Her mantle white was hemmed with gold,_

_Her shoes of silver-grey._

_A star was bound upon her brows,_

_A light was on her hair_

_As sun upon the golden boughs_

_In Lórien the fair._

_Her hair was long, her limbs were white,_

_And fair she was and free;_

_And in the wind she went as light_

_As leaf of linden-tree. _

_Beside the falls of Nimrodel,_

_By water clear and cool,_

_Her voice as falling silver fell_

_Into the shining pool. _

_Where now she wanders none can tell,_

_In sunlight or in shade;_

_For lost of yore was Nimrodel_

_And in the mountains strayed. _

_The elven-ship in haven grey_

_Beneath the mountain-lee_

_Awaited her for many a day_

_Beside the roaring sea. _

_A wind by night in Northern lands_

_Arose, and loud it cried,_

_And drove the ship from elven-strands_

_Across the streaming tide._

_When dawn came dim the land was lost,_

_The mountains sinking grey_

_Beyond the heaving waves that tossed_

_Their plumes of blinding spray._

_Amroth beheld the fading shore_

_Now low beyond the swell,_

_And cursed the faithless ship that bore_

_Him far from Nimrodel._

_Of old he was an Elven-king,_

_A lord of tree and glen,_

_When golden were the boughs in spring_

_In fair Lothlórien._

_From helm to sea they saw him leap,_

_As arrow from the string,_

_And dive into water deep,_

_As mew upon the wing._

_The wind was in his flowing hair,_

_The foam about him shone;_

_Afar they saw him strong and fair_

_Go riding like a swan._

_But from the West has come no word,_

_And on the Hither Shore_

_No tidings Elven-folk have heard_

_Of Amroth evermore._

She had not been sure of her song choice, but this one was close to her heart, as she remembered her mother had often sung it in her presence. As the last resonance faded, she dared to look up and immediately caught the intense eyes of the King of Rohan. This was the second time on this day that this had occurred.

Lothíriel could detect the polite applause from the dignitaries within the hall, but momentarily she was stunned; never before had a man gazed upon her so. Immediately she blushed and, handing the beautiful harp to the waiting servant, she gathered up her skirts and made towards the side entrance to take some air.

Éomer had initially ignored whatever had been going on in the hall of Gondor; more interested in the conversation of his friends Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli; but the sound of an ethereal harp and a pure soprano voice caught his attention. Perhaps he should have known that a sound that touching could only have come from the fair princess that had caught his eye at the coronation, but nevertheless he remained enraptured throughout the song.

When it had finished he observed the girl leave the hall and he immediately turned to his companions.

"She is a fair lass, laddie, I'd go after her if I were you." Advised the dwarf, Gimli, with a knowing wink.

Legolas almost looked lost in a dream, when Éomer turned his gaze towards him. "It was an unusual song choice do you not think Legolas?"

"Yes, I know it well. Such a sad fate to befall any being, it reminds me to seize opportunities while I still might." The elf replied, somewhat pointedly. Aragorn laughed.

"Go my friend, seek out the maiden, the Valar know that after this trying time you are indeed in dire need of fairer company!"

Éomer smirked and took his leave of the group, heading towards the exit after the princess.

Lothíriel had walked out towards the long plinth that ran directly from the palace and jutted out over Minas Tirith towards Osgiliath. She rested her hands on the wall and gazed out towards the South, observing the stars as she would from the tower in Dol Amroth. Her mind was entirely peaceful, when she heard a slight cough behind her.

Immediately she spun, her dress flowing like a whirlwind about her, to face the disturber of her peace. She was surprised to see the King of Rohan.

"My Lord!" Lothíriel exclaimed, making a deep curtsey.

"Please, my lady, I did not mean to disturb you, and you may call me Éomer, for that is what my friends call me." Éomer responded with a slight bow. "You are the princess Lothíriel of Dol Amroth?"

"Yes my Lord Éomer, you must know my father?"

"Prince Imrahil? Yes, he is a very honourable man, and formidable in battle."

"He is known to be formidable in most aspects of life!" The princess laughed, remembering several occasions where this statement had been correct with a certain fondness.

Éomer smiled, indeed it was hard not to smile around this maiden; she seemed to exude a certain zest for life that was refreshing after many hard years at war.

"May I enquire as to why you seek to leave the celebrations my lady Lothíriel?" He asked earnestly.

The princess blushed, for she knew that she could not tell the King her true reason for leaving the hall, but she told a half-truth, "I enjoy looking at the stars; they are a constant throughout many upheavals on Middle Earth. They vary, but always follow a set pattern. It reminds me that there is a greater force than all of us, that runs through this world and will remain still long after we have passed on to the next."

"You speak wisely my lady." Éomer responded thoughtfully, "I hear that you have spoken with my sister…"

Éomer's voice trailed off as he noticed the princess's gaze switch from him to something behind him. He turned as Prince Imrahil approached.

"Lothíriel, what are you doing out here? I expected to see you in the hall at all times!" He berated her, then turned towards Éomer with a slight bow, "My Lord Éomer, please excuse my daughter, she is young."

"There is nothing to excuse my friend, your daughter's company is indeed most hospitable." Éomer responded smoothly.

"Father, King Éomer was recounting your deeds in battle, and I needed air, I hope that you can forgive me." Lothíriel responded meekly, bowing her head.

Imrahil smiled, lifting his daughter's chin gently, "There is nothing to forgive my child; I was merely worried for you. Now we must take our leave of you my lord, the night is late and Lothíriel's brothers are preparing to leave."

With that the prince took Lothíriel's arm and began to lead her away. Éomer quickly called after the retreating pair, "I hope very much that I shall see you again soon my lady, may you return safely to your quarters!"

When Éomer was out of earshot, Imrahil spoke quietly to Lothíriel, "The King of Rohan is an honourable man, but he and his people have a manner that you are not accustomed to Lothíriel. Take care that you do not fall in love with him, as it is likely that he is just being polite, as he would with any girl from his kingdom."

"Yes father, I will take care." Replied Lothíriel. Though in her heart she already knew it was too late. Whether it was against her will or her father's, fate had set her on the path of falling in love with the horselord from Rohan.

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**AN:** _So they've finally met after all that delicious 'eyes meeting across the room' tension. Hehe. The song was "Lay of Nimrodel", look it up on Youtube, really worth a listen! Legolas sang some (or all? Not sure) of it to Frodo I believe. I hope you liked this, I think this was the chapter I was most dreading writing, which is probably why it is a little short, so please let me know what you think! Thanks a bunch :D_


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